


Padfeet

by booksandcatsandtea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Sirius Black has a twin sister
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 21:31:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksandcatsandtea/pseuds/booksandcatsandtea
Summary: Essentially, Sirius has a twin sister named Callista; they go to Hogwarts





	1. Packing; or, Mother Screaming Her Pure-Blood Head Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what it says in the chapter title

"CALLISTA BLACK! COME DOWN HERE! RIGHT NOW!"

I sighed.

Not five seconds later, Sirius shouldered open my door. "You better go down there. She's pretty mad."

"Isn't she always?" I asked him, arching an eyebrow.

He picked up a stray teacup, proudly emblazoned with the Black family crest, from the olive carpet. I was a caffeine addict, and he knew it. "True. You might also want to clear up your room once in awhile, you know? There are at least five cups here and I heard Kreacher mumbling about thieves and tea."

"You do know that it's part of his job description to clean our rooms? He's a house-elf, for Merlin's sake."

"And I'm not sure house-elves have job descriptions."

"It's an expression."

"CALLISTA TITANIA BLACK! I TOLD YOU TO COME DOWN! AND YET YOU IGNORED ME!"

I winced. So did my brother.

"Hurry up, or I'll be packing up what's left of you in this teacup and sending it to the morgue." he said, waving the said teacup in my face.

I swatted him on the arm and flew down the stairs to where Mother and a disgruntled-looking Kreacher were waiting, arms crossed in the case of the latter and a wand out, waving menacingly, in the former.

"Callista? Did I not tell you to come down here three times? And did you not ignore me for all three?"

"No, Mother," I said, unable to restrain myself, "you called me twice."

She glared at me but made no comment. I smiled to myself. Sirius 0, Me 1.

"We will commence packing your trunk today. You do remember that you will be going to Hogwarts with your brother? You have not forgotten?"

"No, Mother, I have not forgotten. I am not a dimwit."

"Merlin knows you act like one."

Now it was my turn to glare.

"Kreacher is to help you pack. Won't you, Kreacher?" My mother turned her beady gaze on him.

"Yes, mistress, Kreacher is to help Miss Callista pack her trunk, and to correct her where necessary, and to -" I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "Shut up."

He had no choice but to obey, his greyish face turning purple with the effort and clapping two long-fingered hands to his mouth.

"Very well. Start. I will come back to you at the end of the day."

Great, so I would be spending the day with an irritable house-elf packing things I probably wouldn't need, as I would be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow anyway.

Kreacher bobbed his ugly head at me. "Miss Callista will follow me to the drawing room," he croaked, "with her trunk."

He expected me to lug my trunk down four flights of stairs?!

As if he had read my mind, his face contorted into what I could only describe as a smirk on his piglike face.

I sighed again.

*

The next day we (that is to say, my mother, Sirius, and I) travelled by Side-Along Apparition to just outside the Leaky Cauldron. My mother would not hear of using Floo Powder, much less the Muggle transportation system, as befitting a pure-blood of her status (her words, not mine) and so Sirius and I had to suffer a horrible squeezing feeling while clutching one of my mother's pale hands each.

It was not an experience I would recommend.

As we entered the Leaky Cauldron, behind my mother like chicks following the hen, the middle-aged barman Tom greeted her with a "Good morning, Madam Black."

He was ignored.

Well, no. He was not ignored. Quite the contrary. My mother muttered "filthy half-blood" under her breath (well, at least she tried to. Everyone within three feet heard, including Tom, who flushed red).

Then she tapped the wall with her wand and we left the Leaky Cauldron and entered Diagon Alley.

*

First we went to Flourish and Blotts, a new bookstore owned by a flustered wizard and his assistant, an even more flustered wizard. It was there that we encountered Uncle Abraxas Malfoy and his son, our cousin Lucius.

Lucius, who looked like a bleached mop turned upside-down, was as pleasant as one and resembled the Abrasive Uncle closely, who looked like an even larger bleached mop.

Uncle Abraxas saw my mother and greeted her loudly with a "Well met, Walburga! Have you come to purchase your books?"

It was a stupid question, stupider than most of the things he generally spouted out his mouth, because what else would you do in a bookstore? Dance around naked with an orange?

"Why, hello, Abraxas! And dear Lucius, too! Have you been made a Slytherin Prefect?!"

"Dear Lucius" strutted towards us with a sneer on his face and a gleaming green badge with a P on it. His chest was thrown out so far, in an attempt to show the world the badge, he kept losing his balance and had to keep grabbing nearby bookshelves to steady himself.

Sirius and I looked at each other. We said not a word.

"Sirius! Callista! Well met, I say! I've been made a prefect!"

We rolled our eyes in unison. "I can see that, judging by the way you're walking half bent forwards at the waist." I remarked.

His face turned a funny shade of strawberry. "I hope you'll join Slytherin!"

"And why should we?" asked Sirius.

Lucius appeared to have turned into a plum. "Why, because -" he was cut off by a loud shout.

"- and that Noddy Leach* has become Minister for Magic! What is the world coming to?!" roared Uncle Abraxas.

We stared. As did everyone else in Flourish and Blotts.

"Indeed! How that Mudblood did it, we will never know... and I wish not to!" screeched my mother in equal volume like a harpy.

Sirius and I left them to their shouting contest and snuck out the back door to wait for it to end.

 

 

*There actually is such a person. You can look it up if you don't believe me.


	2. Foreword

AUTHOR'S NOTE

My dear reader,

This is the author speaking, not the character, and as such, if you wish to insult my fanfiction, be reminded that this chapter is not part of the narrative.

The concept of this story was based off Lily's letter to Sirius (in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows). Here is the first page of the letter.

Dear Padfoot,

Thank you, thank you, for Harry's birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself, I'm enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only rises about two feet off the ground, but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (no complaints there). Of course, James thought it was so funny, says he's going to be a great Quidditch player, but we've had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don't take our eyes off him when he gets going.

We had a very quiet birthday tea, just us and old Bathilda, who has always been sweet to us and who dotes on Harry. We were so sorry you couldn't come, but the Order's got to come first and Harry's not old enough to know it's his birthday any- way! James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell – also, Dumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend, I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the news about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard.

Bathilda drops in most days, she's a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore, I'm not sure he'd be pleased if he knew! I don't know how much to believe, actually, because it seems incredible that Dumbledore...

And this is where the first page of the letter ends.

The second page of the letter, which Severus Snape took, begins thus:

... could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind's going, personally!

Lots of love,

Lily

The key point of this letter is this excerpt:

You know it only rises about two feet off the ground, but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (no complaints there). 

There's mention of a cat. Harry later wonders if the cat survived, or whether it left after there was nobody to feed it.

And here is a image of the Potters, and their cat, from Pottermore.

 

I've tried to stick with the canon information in the entire fanfiction: if there are any inconsistencies, be kind enough to leave a comment and tell me. 

Now, my theory is that the Potters' cat is, in reality, Sirius Black's twin sister, also an Animagus, who moved in with the Potters when the war started. (Sirius is assumed to have been living somewhere else.) 

And so, this fanfiction is based on this theory (headcanon? does this classify as a headcanon?) of Sirius Black's sister. I have the honor to be

Your obedient servant,

booksandcatsandtea

Postscript: the image of the Potters is taken from Pottermore. It's not canon (described in the books). The cat is a ginger one - this is not consistent with the development of the character later on in the fanfiction. Please do not point this out, I'm aware of it.


	3. So Am I a Slytherin? No, Apparently Not

As we got off the Hogwarts Express, I with Lily and Sirius with his friends, a bulky figure came out to meet us, lumbering through the fog.

"Firs' years! Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"

The figure, who was wearing a coat with plenty of pockets, with one alarmingly cheeping like a bat, introduced himself as "Name's Rubeus Hagrid. Call me Hagrid, everyone does."

To say he was large was the understatement of the century. The man was the size of a damn tree. Not just any tree, either - he looked exactly like the Green Man of the Forest from one of the Muggle books I had stashed under my bed.

Hagrid led us to a crowd of little black boats on the glassy water. "Five to a boat, and no shoving!" he shouted at us.

I recalled Lucius having warned us against Hagrid. "Big, lumbering fool, who's obsessed with magical creatures and carries a great big brolly around. Avoid him, my dear cousins."

Well, Lucius, you were wrong. More wrong than you normally are. And that's saying a lot.

As we clambered into a boat, five each, I found myself in the same boat as Green Eyes, Lily, James, and a short boy with watery blue eyes and mousy brown hair.

"James. What the hell are you here for?" I asked him, discreetly gesturing at Lily. The boy did not have anything that the human race called 'tact'.

Lily whipped around from where she had been staring across the black lake at the motion. Maybe I wasn't as discreet as I'd thought.

Sooner than I'd expected, we were in front of the looming castle of Hogwarts. Hagrid gestured with a hand the size of a car tyre at a tall, thin, stern-looking woman. She had a tartan scarf around her neck.

"Tha's Professor McGonagall, and mind you listen to what she says."

With that ominous declaration, he vanished into the shadows.

We walked up the steps like a flock of geese, herded by said Professor McGonagall. Then we entered the great, wooden front doors and halted.

We actually halted. Well, most of us did, anyway. There were some of us who had apparently heard tales of Hogwarts from an early age and wouldn't have dreamed (or nightmared) of showing surprise at the sight of it. 

And then there were those who never showed their emotions on their faces unless they were very hard to control. I was one of the latter.

Then, McGonagall Summoned a stool (the kind for sitting on, generally with three legs, not what we uncivilized people call crap) and whipped out an object from her robes.

Then the object moved.

Then the object straightened.

Then the object opened a rip near the bottom of the object and began to sing.

"The Sorting Hat," Lily breathed.

"The what?" I asked.

"The Sorting Hat. The original four founders of Hogwarts enchanted this hat to Sort new students in their houses. Legend has it that this Hat belonged to Gryffindor."

"How do you even know all this random trivia?" I asked her.

She shook her head.

"You will now stand in an orderly line and enter the Hall. When I call your name, come out and put the hat on."

*

When McGonagall got to "Black, Callista!" I stepped out from the crowd, hands shaking. As I did so I heard whispers, the loudest coming from the Slytherin table.

"Isn't that the daughter of Walburga Black?"

"The twin one, yes."

"She'll be Sorted into Slytherin like all her family, you mark my words."

Oh, really? Just to prove them wrong, I quickened my pace and lifted a tendril of black off my face.

No puns or rhymes intended. Although, if you would like more -

The Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, gave me a benevolent smile from the staff table.

McGonagall lifted the Hat off the stool and motioned for me to sit.

I sat.

She placed the Hat on my head.

"Well, well, well. What an interesting mind we have here."

I looked around wildly, but there appeared to be nobody who had spoken.

"I'm up here, Callista Black. On your head. Yes, I'm the Sorting Hat."

I was less than reassured to know that the hat spoke.

Don't put me in Slytherin, Hat.

"And why not? Slytherin has produced several of the greatest wizards in history. Why, even Merlin was one!"

No.

"And why not, Callista Black?"

My entire family has been in Slytherin - and not one of them have been good in any sense of the word.

Unbidden, images floated up before my eyes. My father, performing the Cruciatus Curse on Kreacher because he'd dropped a cup of tea. Not that I liked the scrawny pig, but - the Cruciatus Curse? My mother, dangling the neighbours upside down from her bedroom window as their relatives wildly tried to pull them down. Regulus watching calmly from beside the window as my mother righted the Muggles with one sweep of her wand and crashed them into a tree.

The Hat seemed to nod. "Well then, which House do you want?"

I shrugged. Which one suits me most? Isn't that your job?

"Well yes, but I decided to let you choose first! What about Ravenclaw?"

NO!

The Hat chuckled. "I thought not. A pure-blood like you wouldn't want to be with that lot, now would you?"

I blushed. No, but that wouldn't infuriate Mother as much. If I have to "disappoint" her by not being in Slytherin, better do it thoroughly.

"Ah, a spirited one, aren't you? I remember your mother. Pale, doughy-looking, a headful of messy black hair - no?"

Mhm.

"You want to make her mad? Well, if there's anything those pureblood Slytherins hate the most, it's the Gryffindors next to Mudbloods and blood-traitors. How does that sound? Moreover, you have the qualities of one - anyone, anyone who will stand up to Walburga Black belongs in Gryffindor."

Perfect. I clapped my hands in joy.

"Well then. GRYFFINDOR it is!" the Hat shouted.

I took the Hat off after thanking it.

"Well. Miss Black, that took a good twelve minutes. A Hatstall if ever I saw one."

Was it? It seemed only five!

"Er - is that a bad thing?"

"Not necessarily. I was one myself."

I raised an eyebrow and walked to the Gryffindor table amid hisses of disbelief from the Slytherins. Cousin Lucius Mophead was the most surprised of all, his face turning an ugly puce. He waved his fist in the air, blond hair disheveled, Prefect badge hanging loose. "CALLISTA! NEVER HAS A BLACK BELONGED IN A HOUSE NOT IN SLYTHERIN! YOU WILL PAY!"

Pay? Oh, I would. 

I sat down amid cheers and catcalls from the Gryffindors. A cheerful, round-faced girl moved over. She stretched out a hand.

"Hi! I'm Alice Fortescue! Welcome to Gryffindor!"

It was then that I noticed a gold-and-red badge on her chest. It was pinned slightly crooked, but the whole effect, with her slightly worn robes and moon face, looked - I had no other word for it - friendly.

"My brother's being Sorted now." I pointed at Sirius walking up the aisle.

"Oh! Are you twins, then! I've never met a twin before!" she exclaimed.

"Well, now you have." I grinned at her and then turned to watch Sirius.

I wasn't worried. I wasn't even the slightest bit concerned. He'd been talking about going to Gryffindor all his life! If I'd been Sorted into Gryffindor, he certainly would, too.

He didn't take twelve minutes like I had. He didn't even take ten. In a matter of five seconds, the Hat screamed: "GRYFFINDOR IT IS!"

I applauded the hardest. Literally. An old cut on my hand opened up and started bleeding profusely.

My relatives?

Cousin Lucius had fainted and had plopped down like a - a fallen mop, much to the concern of his fellow Slytherins. I smothered a smile.

*

As I continued to watch, Lily was Sorted into Gryffindor, which began to complicate matters. I was thrilled, of course, but if James and Green Eyes, who I had learned, 's name was Remus Lupin, were sorted , then chaos would reign.

At least, that was what Sirius had gloomily predicted next to me. "Oh, James will be over the moon... and Lily will be -" "What, were you about to say 'under the moon'? There's no such thing." I interrupted him, not wanting to hear any more of his pessimistic comments. Indeed, I was looking forward to the 'chaos' we'd be witnessing. It would be fun.

And as Sirius had woefully predicted, James and Remus were both sorted into Gryffindor without a moment's doubt from the Hat.

The predicted pandemonium began as soon as James took a seat. He took a glance at the slumped figure with flaming hair next to me and blushed as red as her hair, then poked me in the arm.

"What?"

"Can you poke Evans in the arm?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why so?"

The conversation continued in this vein for almost five minutes until Remus interrupted it by brandishing a dish of mint humbugs in James' face, shouting 'BAH HUMBUG!" at the top of his lungs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my brother watching Remus out of the corner of his eye - dare I say - longingly? I covered my mouth with a hand to hide an evil smile.

*

After a dinner of any dish you could name on the Gryffindor table, I was stuffed. I felt like rolling to the Common Room.

Provided, of course, that I knew where it was. Which I did not.

But an angel from Heaven by the name of Alice Fortescue did, and we were brought through dim, twisted corridors to a portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress, drinking like mad from a silver goblet.

"Password?" she asked imperiously from behind her goblet of wine.

"Okay, guys," Alice said, turning to us, "this is the Fat Lady. She's the entrance - well, she's the guardian of the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. And the password now is -" she looked questioningly at the Fat Lady.

"Novum populum," the woman said with a wink.

Alice looked slightly uncomfortable - she evidently did not speak Latin. I did, as a result of my father's relentless tutoring. It meant "new people".

"Novum populum to you, then." Alice told her. The portrait swung forward and Alice gestured to us to crawl through a hole in the wall.

Merlin's beard, the place was warm.

Physically, it was hung with red and gold velvet and a huge stone fireplace adorned the far wall. A battered, squishy sofa and armchairs in the same state was arranged around the aforesaid fireplace in a semicircle. A tapestry, The Lady and the Unicorn, adorned the nearest wall.

But it was warm the way Grimmauld Place had never been. You could feel all the happiness and enthusiasm from the inhabitants of the room.

And it had no severed house-elf heads stuck on the wall. That added to much in its favor.


	4. Lessons; or, In Which I Am Misnamed by a Long-Winded Ghost

Alice calmly passes around scrolls of parchment at the breakfast table, in stark contrast to the utter pandemonium ensuing around us.

Owls swoop through the air, hooting and cawing at an ear-piercing volume as they drop parcels onto unfortunate students' heads. Scrolls of parchment that beat pupils over the head violently, delicate paper squares with delicate-er handwriting from each of the teachers, and assorted discarded feathers fly through the air at an alarming rate.

"Right, so the times are along the side of the table, and the lessons are inside the squares, and days of the week, which I presume you can tell, are along the top. Feel free to customize, though preferably not with profanity and impolite images." Alice says, wiping a bead of sweat from her head. The cawing was probably beginning to affect her like the rest of the student population.

Beside me, Sirius wolfs* down eggs and bacon at a stupendous rate, shoveling down spoonfuls of food as he scans his timetable.

"I believe we have the same classes?" I question him while trying not to wince visibly at the way his food was being mauled and while pushing a cherry tomato around my plate.

"Yesh, vee do" comes the answer.

He never ate like this at home, due to the rigorous teaching of dear Mother. It appears that all those years of coaching have gone down the drain in one breakfastime.

"Transvigooraytion 'eer" he jabs his finger at the Transfiguration square "an Transvigooraytion dere" he points at my timetable. I turn it a shade of blue with a tap of my wand. "Istorry of Majig -" I interrupt him with a rap on the head with a spoon. 

"Okay, shut up, I can't focus with your muttering."

"Mmph." He goes back to attacking his plate of eggs and bacon.

It appeared that we had the same classes with the Ravenclaws. Well, thank Merlin, we weren't doing classes with the Slytherins, for that would come with a great deal of awkwardness and lack of grace.

On my other side sat Remus, who was equally absorbed in the art of timetable analyzing. I turn from the boy attacking his food to the boy attacking his timetable and peer at his schedule.

Spearing a tomato on the end of my fork I see that he, too, has the exact classes, down to flying - wait, what?

Flying.

No doubt we'd be flying on brooms, standard equipment for - er - flying. Unfortunate, for who would wish to sit on cleaning materials while soaring through the skies?

Hmm.

"Callista!"

James, who had previously been attacking his food like my fool of a brother, had now decided to benevolently and mercifully abandon his prey and start on the timetable. 

"We're with the Ravenclaws!"

I raise an eyebrow. "I may have ugly eyes but that doesn't mean I'm blind."

"Yeah, well -"

"Meanwhile your eyes, while not deformed or afflicted with any incurable disease, seem to be incapable of reading into situations." I conclude.

He splutters before regaining his dignity. "My point is, we're with the nerds."

"Considering that I, too, am apt to be a 'nerd', I find myself quite delighted with the prospect."

"Okay, okay, I understand your attraction to nerds" - cue my turn to splutter and gesticulate 'What?' at him - "but they'll be boring! I wish we were with the Slytherins -" 

He stops as Lily walks over to my side of the bench. "Callista, I take it we all have the same subjects?"

"Indeed we do."

"Unfortunate."

With that she walks back to her end of the table and I hide a smile as James proceeds to imitate an ostrich who has just discovered its precious egg has been stolen.

*

Our first lesson, taught by -

"A non-existent professor," James proclaims with a grand wave of his hands. "Presenting, A History of First-Years Enjoying Them-"

He's interrupted by a ghost of an elderly man who enters through the blackboard.

He then proceeds to shiver madly as the ghost proceeds to pass through him, completely unaware of his existence.

"I'm n-n-numb" he stutters as he makes his way to a desk and sits down.

The ghost introduces himself as 'Professor Cuthbert Binns' and goes to his table, where he sits down and begins to read from his ghostly notes in a ghastly monotone.

Lily, having taken an adjacent seat so as to use me as a barrier against the boys, proceeds to unroll a scroll of parchment to write down notes in neat handwriting.

James whispers loudly across the classroom: "You're actually going to listen?"

"We have exams, Potter." she replies scathingly. "You can fail yours if you want, but I have no intention to."

I shrug at him, then square my shoulders and rest my face on my hands to listen to said professor droning.

Pretty soon, among the loud whispers of the class, he starts to rant on about dates. I block out the insistent scratching of Lily' quill and use my wand to brand down said dates on the parchment, being too lazy to write.

My handwriting's atrocious anyway.

"That's cheating!" Lily hisses when she sees me.

"Why would you care?" James asks from behind. 

She petulantly turns her face away and continues to write.

Within five minutes, for the weather was warm, half the class had drowsily fallen into a stupor. The only people still awake besides I were Lily, rapidly taking down notes; James and Sirius, who had taken their wands out and bewitched crumpled bits of parchment to fly into Lily's hair, and Remus, who was attentively scribbling down key phrases.

One hour passed uneventfully until the end. 

"BLACK! POTTER! BLACK!"

A man with a disgusting head of stringy gray hair and luminous pale eyes threw our door open. It was the caretaker, Mr. Filch, to whom many unsavory nicknames were attributed. 

I had gotten hold of this information from Alice.

I had also gotten hold of a package of Dungbombs, which James, Sirius and I had plotted to purchase with a pooling of our money. Said package was currently residing within my dormitory, after much consideration on the matter. We had thought he wouldn't check a girl's dormitory. We had thought that the charm that prevented the boys from going to the girls' dormitories would prevent Filch from checking.

We were wrong.

The charm had not worked on Filch, for whatever reason, and the results of his excursion to my dormitory were in his hands.

"DUNGBOMBS! DUNGBOMBS! I SHALL GO TO THE HEADMASTER, YES, I SHALL, AND I SHALL ASK HIM FOR ANOTHER DECREE ON THE BAN OF PURCHASE OF SUCH - SUCH -" 

He paused to take breath.

"SUCH ATROCITIES!"

Professor Binns paused. "Eh?"

Filch quailed. "Eh... I apologize, Professor... I apologize most sincerely..."

He left.

Binns turned to the class. "Well... Uh... You may pack up. Perkins, Burkis, Burkis, stay behind."

We knew he was referring to us, but since he did not address us by name, we saw no reason to stay behind.

So we ran.

 

 

*DID YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE no obviously not never mind.


	5. The Sailing of the Jily

It was immediately after the immensely dull lesson with Professor Binns that a new dilemma, by the name of Peter Pettigrew, entered my life.

Pettigrew was a pale-skinned, plump boy with mousy-brown hair and a vacantly idiotic expression. He was possessed of an oily faceful of acne and an excruciatingly high-pitched squeal, which he made use of whenever James or Sirius did anything remotely amusing.

I hated him.

He hero-worshipped James, and thought of my brother as a godly figure to admire. That would have been bearable had he not 'sucked up' to the two and obsequiously acquiesced to their every demand with a bob of the head and a buffoonish smile.

To add insult to injury, the mouselike boy followed the duo everywhere they went, even to the lavatory, spouting incessant, insipid comments all the while. "Did you know Marlene McKinnon was staring at you, Sirius? She might have a -" he lowers his voice conspiratorially, "-crush on you!" 

"James, I really think Lily might have taken a shine to you, if you get my meaning," this was punctuated by an earnest blink, "she was smiling in your direction at breakfast today. I thereby pronounce your ship 'Jily'!"

James looked at him excitedly. "Do you think she'd -"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP!" I screamed, unable to take his blithering nonsense any longer. "ALL YOU TALK ABOUT IS THE AMOUNT OF THE FEMALE POPULATION WHO SEEM TO BE, AS YOU SAY, TAKING A SHINE TO THESE TWO!"

He ignored me.

The little blockhead ignored me!

I flew into a towering rage, pulling my wand out of my robes. "PORROMNA!"

The plump idiot fell to the ground, clapping his hands to his ears. Nothing of interest happened for a second. Then, two leeks forced themselves out his ears, shoving his hands away.

The green sprouts did not leave his head for most of the day, leaving, instead, a pungent scent of onions that followed him wherever he went and left traces in every room he had been in, trailing doom and destruction in its wake...

I exaggerate.

This, however, was a minor side effect to the fact that he dared not ignore me ever again.

*

The next day, a Friday, was Double Potions first thing in the morning. Truly, there was nothing better than brewing liquids to start off your day.

I was elated the moment I stepped foot into the dungeon. It was a roughly square room, walled, ceilinged, and floored with gray stone, with large workbenches and curtained windows. A basin squatted in the corner, presumably to wash one's hands. Under a window resided a mahogany desk with a comfortable-looking armchair, purple in color, behind it.

The Potions Master, however, was nowhere in sight. 

Ignoring the absence of the professor, I took a seat at the front of the classroom next to Sirius. James rushed in a minute later clutching a book. 

"Sorry I'm late - had to -" he clawed at a stitch in his side "-grab my textbook - forgot it - first impressions, you know?" He collapsed in the seat to my right.

I blinked at him and turned to the doorway, where Remus had appeared, holding a textbook, like James, and holding at a stitch in his side, like James.

His voice was hoarse as he whispered "I didn't get much sleep last night - overslept -" he fell silent as Sirius looked up at him.

He swallowed. Sirius turned back to his textbook. I let out an exhale. 

James had not noticed any of that, as his attention was fixated on the flamehaired girl who'd just walked in. He leapt up.

I turned to Sirius and shook my head despairingly. "What is wrong with that boy?"

"Peter was right. We need a name for them."

"A... what was that he called them? A boat? Kayak? No - ship."

"I imagine it's short for relationship." Remus remarked as he, too, turned to watch the action.

"Ah." Sirius, it appeared, had gone temporarily mute apart from occasional 'ah's, 'mhm's, and 'oh's. 

James wasn't the only one in the Potions dungeon making a fool of himself.

Though he was the biggest one. He'd gone over directly to Lily while I was observing the Remus/Sirius interaction, and proceeded to attempt to impress her with the amount of Quidditch maneuvers he knew.

It went without saying that he'd failed.

Lily, annoyed with his showing off, had flounced off to the workbench on the side of the classroom. James, annoyed with his failure, had stalked back to his seat.

I sighed expressively at him. He did not seem to take the hint, however, and told me that breathing loudly was detracting from his experience of gazing at the love of his life.

Yes, he'd just called Lily the love of his life. 

I decided not to remind him that he was only thirteen.

Then I turned to Remus. "Jily."

"Jily," he replied with dawning amusement.

"Jily," called Sirius from under the table where he'd knocked over a quill at hearing Remus talk again.

 

 

 

 

Note: I assure you that first-years/Year Sevens/twelve-thirteen year olds are actually this dramatic. At least, they are in the institute I study at.


	6. Time Lapses (Note From The Author)

My dear reader,

I'm attempting to fit the Marauders' Era into one fanfic - that is to say, their pre-Hogwarts years, their Hogwarts years, and their post-Hogwarts years. 

As such, I apologize that I cannot write about the entirety of these times. However, I will make use of time lapses.

Each lapse will be indicated by an underlined, centered time period surrounded by asterisks, like so:

*Two Years*

This indicates two years have passed.

I'm truly sorry. I wish I could write several fanfictions on this plot, but I really cannot, like J.K. Rowling, write seven (eight?) books without collapsing, with such a short timeframe. I have the honor to be

Your obedient servant

booksandcatsandtea


	7. In Which Sirius Is Mercilessly Teased

*One Year Later (Second Year)*

//Note: this, if you happen to be in my school, is loosely based off Food Tech//

 

My brother stretches his legs in front of the fire. "Slughorn's essay on the Forgetfulness Potion; Binns' goblin essay? Callie, it's on goblins, right? You're the only one who pays attention to that old fart." He ticked each item off on his fingers.

I muttered an affirmation, being absorbed in a book on dragons.

"Right. Anything else we need to finish, James?"

"No."

"In which case we have an entire evening to spend." Sirius sighed and knotted his fingers behind his head as he leaned back. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Smash or Pass." James leaped up from his armchair, a maniacal gleam in his eye. He winked at me.

This was the perfect opportunity to air our suspicions. I dog-eared (why not cat-eared?) the page and set it down with a thunk and a devilish smile.

"Honestly?" Sirius groaned. "Your imagination leaves much to be desired - okay, anyone got a pen?"

I retrieved a quill from the inside of my robes and set it in the middle of the table, before spinning it. The point landed on James.

"Okay. Lily." I tell him.

Without so much as a blink, he stated "Smash."

I arched an eyebrow as James leaned forward to spin the quill.

It landed on me.

"Smash or pass... Benjy Fenwick?"

Fenwick was an older boy who was conventionally attractive. I didn't like him. His eyes were too closely set for my taste.

"Pass."

I spun the quill again. It landed on me.

"You can't do that, Callie. Spin it again," James said, shaking his head.

So I did. It landed on Sirius.

He groaned again and stood up. 

I stuck a leg out to trip him. "No. Sit back down. Okay - smash or pass... Remus?"

At the mention of his name, Remus looked up from where he was studying from the other side of the common room. I hurriedly waved him back down.

Sirius looked like a cornered animal, eyes darting from side to side. He chewed his lip as I shot James a triumphant look.

"Why the hesitation, Sirius dear?" James asked in a honey-sweet voice, leaning over so his face was inches from Sirius's. Sirius batted at his nose and James sat back in his armchair, although his face wore the same happy expression. 

"You'd smash Remus?" I purr the last word. "Don't think we haven't noticed you looking at him in History of Magic..." 

Sirius turned bright red. "I -"

James and I wore near-identical grins by this time. "REMUS!" we screeched like harpies across the room.

The said personage stood up and made as to come over. Sirius shook his head violently. Remus tilted his head questioningly, but walked over anyway.

"Sirius says he'd -" James started, his face twisted into a grimace of mirth.

"- smash you if he could," I finished with a hysterical giggle.

"I did not!" Sirius exclaimed with indignation. "I didn't say anything!"

"Yeah, but you didn't pass him, did you?" I ask him.

He spluttered for a second before blushing. "I - I'm going to bed." 

Remus excused himself, his face a similar shade of rose to Sirius's. James and I shared another look of triumph before going off to our respective dormitories.


	8. The Hogwarts Express, Snivellus, and an Apology

"HAVE YOU ALL GOTTEN YOUR THINGS?"

Sirius and I were perched on opposite ends of his bed. "Does she honestly have to screech so loudly? She-"

"-could get Kreacher to deliver the message, or she could come up here herself to ask!" he finished.

Sirius sipped from my steaming cup of tea. "Why do you even put those jasmine flowers in the tea?" I swatted him on the hand and continued on the rant.

"And the way she makes me wear these dresses - that woman made me pack half a trunk's worth of space in there!" I growled. "She's so damn old-fashioned..."

"You think you've got the worse end of the deal? I have a set of Father's old robes. Never mind that they're Slytherin robes - she thinks we'll be Slytherins too, like the rest of the damn family." He spat the last few words out.

Unfortunately, in his rage, he had waved his hands around, forgetting he held my cup, and my precious tea mixture was ruined. So was his carpet.

I glared at him to show my disapproval of his tea wastage. "We better go down and tell Mother what we need and what we already have. Otherwise she will send Kreacher here and then we'll have to lie to get that pig-nosed git out of our faces."

*

"Come, children!" my mother bellowed.

I winced and Regulus shook his head. "No, Mother, I'll be in my room writing an essay for you when you come back. I'm thinking of calling it "The Sacred Twenty-Eight"."

My mother beamed at him and ruffled his hair affectionately. No, not affectionately. My mother was not an affectionate person, but this was the closest I had seen her with that emotion.

I had severe doubts about the truth of this statement. He was unlikely to be writing an essay, and would probably be playing Quidditch with my father, who would not be taking us to King's Cross. No, he would be "working on Ministry documents", when, in reality, he just couldn't be bothered to care about his children.

At least, his elder ones.

Sirius seemed to be thinking along the same lines, judging by the scowl on his face. Well, the cause of the scowl might have been because of Kreacher, who had trotted up with an armful of two packages, wrapped in brown paper and exuding an odd smell.

"Master Sirius, Miss Callista," he croaked, "I wish you farewell." My mother looked at him. "For the present," he quickly added.

We each cautiously took the package. On a count of three, Sirius and I ripped the package open in unison.

We promptly dropped them.

Inside each package was a wriggling, steaming mass of bats. Brown, leathery, and squeaking like their lives depended on it, they wobbled upward and out of the package.

I flew up the stairs, cursing, face white as a sheet. Sirius remained next to the packages, looking at the bats with interest.

I faintly heard Kreacher Disapparating up to the top floor with a loud crack, and a louder crack as he threw himself out the window, squealing "Bad Kreacher! Bad Kreacher!" but with a detectable strain of amusement under it.

Sirius picked up both opened packages with a smile on his face. "These will come in handy."

My mother had not seen any of it, having been occupied by a book fluttering out the window. I was curious as to why.

*

My curiosity was sated by another screech from out the front door. "CHILDREN!"

I arched an eyebrow as I slid down the banister and joined Sirius and our hovering trunks, suspended by my mother's wand. "MAKE HASTE, CHILDREN!"

Make haste we did, and we were each grasped by one of my mother's doughy hands as she Disapparated to King's Cross.

We Apparated on Platform Nine. "I was under the impression that we would be going to Nine and Three Quarters?" Sirius inquired.

"We are indeed." my mother told him. "Here, we will lean against this ticket barricade, I believe it is called -" she indicated the ticket barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten wordlessly, having evidently forgotten "- and we will arrive."

Sirius raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing. Hell, our mother was always slightly dotty - why should she stop now?

Lean against the barrier we did, and we slid - yes, we slid - into an entirely different world.

Billowing clouds of white steam was a crimson train emblazoned with "Hogwarts Express". The train was massive - it had to be at least twice the size of the Muggle trains outside.

The doors of the carriages were open. I tugged on Sirius' hand, wanting to get away from my annoying mother as soon as possible - but he stood rooted to the spot, gawking at the pets.

I rolled my eyes. The cats were beautiful, but the owls were just squawking their heads off and the toads were... um... sliming? Ugh. Why would anyone want a toad ? Sure, they were all the rage at this precise moment in history. It would just be a fad that would pass soon enough.

At least, I hoped so.

*

"SIRIUS ARCTURUS BLACK. WE. ARE. GOING."

No, that was not my mother. That was me. Who ever knew that I possessed such a strong voice?

Not Sirius, that was for certain. He jumped a foot into the air. My mother nodded approvingly.

"That's right, Callista. Louder next time!"

I turned away quickly to hide my laugh bordering on hysteria. Louder? Everyone within a five-foot radius had heard me!

"Goodbye, Mother!" I exclaimed with false enthusiasm. "Make sure you send me a letter each week!" she replied with a smile.

And then - wonder of all wonders - (or should it be horrors?) she leaned over and pecked us on the cheek.

Yes.

My mother, Walburga Black, mistress of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, abuser of children, had shown physical affection to one of her offspring.

I threw my arms around her quickly to hide my shock. Instantly I regretted it. She reeked of a perfume I was sure did not exist in the human world.

Sirius was choking, no doubt from the surprise.

I disentangled myself from my mother, who had tears in her gray eyes. She dabbed at them.

I was rapidly discovering a new, emotional version of my mother - and I wasn't sure I liked it. It was, to say the least, strange. "Mother? We'd best be going." Sirius came over and patted my mother on her cheek.

We went to find a compartment.

The first one we went in had a raucous crowd of sixth-years whooping and cheering. Sirius looked in to see the cause of the commotion.

It appeared to be a bespectacled, black-haired boy. A first-year, I would assume. He was showing his owl in a cage around.

It was not much to make a fuss about, but Sirius was entranced. He went over to peer at the owl closely. I followed behind.

"Sure, Callie's pretty but she needs a hell lot of Owl Treats to keep her happy!" the proud owner said to the admiring sixth-years.

"Callie?" I went over and sat beside him.

"Yep. My dad named her Callista, but -"

"Excuse me?! My name is Callista!"

Sirius exploded into hysterics. The sixth-years glanced warily at him and backed out, one by one, out into the corridor, owl forgotten.

I kicked him in the shin. That was enough to shut him up and calm him into hiccups, tears streaming down his face.

"W-w-what's your n-name?" Sirius asked through hiccups.

The boy kicked him in the other shin. "I'm Potter. James Potter."

"Hey!" Sirius exclaimed indignantly, cured of his hiccups.

"At least that stopped you hiccuping," I pointed out.

James chuckled. "What's your name?"

"I'm Black -" He was cut off by my hysterics this time. "What?" he asked me testily.

"You - you just said - 'I'm black' -" I choked.

James joined in my laughing fit. "That's probably politically incorrect, but I assume you meant no offense?"

"No-"

At this inopportune moment, a girl with flaming red hair came into our compartment. "Can I come in?"

She looked like she'd been crying. Blinking rapidly she crossed the threshold and hunched in a corner seat, face pressed against the window.

Then in came a boy, already in his black robes. His Hogwarts robes weren't the only thing black about him. (You can interpret that any way you like.) His greasy hair and tunnel-like eyes were black too, as well as his mood, as was evident when he marched inside and plonked his backside on the seat with a loud crash.

I raised my eyebrows. Both of them.

He evidently knew the redhead, as he sat beside her and began to talk.

I turned my back on them and continued the conversation.

"Yes, as Sirius so kindly mentioned, we're Black - not to be racist or anything. We are. Well, at least, our surname is Black. I'm Callista, as you already know, and he's Sirius."

"You're both in the same year? Wait -" James looked at us, turning his head from side to side (we were seated on both his sides) "are you twins?"

"Um - yes, we are." Sirius concurred.

It was at this moment we all fell silent for a moment, having nothing to say. From across the compartment I heard the black-haired boy say to the girl "You'd better be in Slytherin."

"Slytherin?" James asked.

The three of us looked around. "Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" he continued.

We did not smile. "Our whole family have been in Slytherin." I told him.

"Blimey," said James, "and I thought you two seemed all right!"

"Maybe we'll break the tradition." Sirius grinned. "Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?" I asked him.

James lifted an invisible sword. Wow. His play-acting skills left much to be desired.

"'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!' Like my dad."

At this, the black-haired boy made a disparaging noise.

James turned on him. "Got a problem with that?"

"No," said the boy with an unpleasant sneer that implied the opposite, "but if you'd rather be brawny than brainy -"

"Where're you planning to go, seeing as you're neither?" I asked him.

The boys roared with laughter. The girl stood up, flushed. "Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment."

"Ooooooooo..." The boys imitated her voice. James stuck his leg out to trip Severus as he passed. He failed - but Severus gave a little sniffle, not of sadness, but merely of snot up his nose.

And then it came to me.

"See ya, Snivellus!" I called out, standing up from my seat, as they slammed the compartment door.

As I sat back down, I saw the boys glance at each other, then at me, then holding out one palm, flat, facing me in unison.

I slapped one with each hand with a grin that wouldn't fit properly on my face.

*

We were nearing the mountain where Hogwarts was supposed to be when a green-eyed boy stumbled in. On his heels was a heavy, thickset third year, I assumed.

"So, coward, since you keep running away from me like one of those fucking Muggles, Imma ask you a question."

The three of us crossed our arms in anticipation of what would happen next.

Green Eyes, who was panting slightly, no doubt a side effect of being chased around the train by this thug, ignored him.

"Say, are you a Mudblood? Or, even worse, are you just a Muggle who has no idea whatsoever what's 'appenin?"

Green Eyes straightened up and turned around.

"Half-blood, pureblood, Muggle-born, doesn't matter - I'm still smarter than you will ever be."

The thug seemed to take a minute to process this sentence, his piglike eyes narrowing. Then he spun around on one heel, if a thug who waddled could be said to spin, and walked off.

"We have officially found our third." James rose and clapped the other boy on the back.

"Excuse me?" I gave him my best death glare. My triumph at Green Eyes' victory was quickly quenched by his reaction.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Cal, but you're a girl..."

My jaw dropped. Well, at least, it tried, but I kept it firmly shut.

Then I raked my nails across his face.

Blood dripped from his forehead into his eyes. He shook his head to clear it.

I could see I'd gone too far - with boys, there was normally a limit to which they could be incensed - then they'd slip into what I called the "rage mode".

Did I care?

No.

I leaped up onto one of the seats as his face slowly turned red.

He lunged at me, fists extended, and punched me in the cheek.

My head snapped to the left with a crack.

I retaliated with a scratch to the offending hand. He roared and took a swing at my leg - but before he could do anything, the trolley witch walked in.

"My, oh my! What's going on, children? Fighting in the train - and first-years too!"

James and I sulkily sat down on the floor cross-legged.

"I'm going to report you to the Headmaster!"

With that she left - or, she would have, if Green Eyes hadn't raised a hand.

"Please, ma'am, may I buy a Cauldron Cake? I'm really sorry for my friends' behavior..."

"Certainly, certainly!" To the two of us she tutted. "Right, since you have such a good friend I'll let you off this time. Next time, you won't be so lucky!"

She whipped out her wand, and James flinched, afraid she would hex him.

She did no such thing, only tapped our faces, muttered "Episkey", and our faces returned to normal. Then she left, wheeling the trolley with her.

I looked at James. James looked at me.

The 'rage mode' had passed and he was normal - or should such a temperamental person ever be called normal? Nevertheless I was quite shocked when he extended a hand.

"What?" I glared at him, still furious. Just because I was a girl -

"It was a good fight. And I take that back. You fight well, but - the nail bit was a girl thing, I guess?"

I arched an eyebrow at him and left the compartment.

*

Where to go?

I was going to find the redhead who had earlier went into our compartment. I felt quite sure that she'd be on my side.

After fifteen minutes I found her. Surprisingly, she wasn't with Snivellus.

"Hey, I'm Callista - Callista Black!"

Damn, could I have made a worse introduction?

"You're one of those people." Her tone made it quite obvious she did not think highly of "those people".

"Yes, I am, and I've just been kicked out of their group."

"Really?" Her voice was curious, but I noticed a strain of bitterness in the tone.

I avoided the "really". "What happened to Severus?"

"Oh, you needn't try to be polite."

There was no mistaking it - if voices were drinks, hers right now was a steaming vat of black coffee. No pun intended. (As a side fact, my parents did drink coffee - a lot of it. I would be drowning in coffee if I'd stayed at Grimmauld Place.)

"Oh?" Now it was my turn to be curious. Surely that dependent, greasy-haired boy couldn't have ditched her?

Apparently he had, for she spat "That -" she swore with such ferocity I gasped. I'd assumed her to be a goody-two-shoes, but evidently that was not the case.

Well. Many goody-two-shoes did swear. Regulus did, anyway, at the tender age of nine.

"- Snivellus just ditched me for those thugs!"

Okay, now that was just taking it too far. I'd assumed Snivellus would have followed her around like a loyal dog - and I had been mistaken.

I'd also assumed that James could be my friend.

Well. I'd recently heard a Muggle joke that went "Never assume - it makes an ass out of you and me." It was more proverb than wisecrack, especially in my case.

As we sat contemplating why boys were such idiots, I heard a rap on my compartment door. It was Sirius, gesticulating furiously - but I heard not a word through the glass.

Lily slid the door open. "What do you want?" she asked unceremoniously.

"Callista, James wants to apologize to you. Properly."

I glanced at Lily. "Well, go on - and tell me about it later!" she beamed at me.

I very much doubted the sincerity of that smile. Nevertheless, I went back with Sirius.

"Cal, I really want to apologize to you about my sexist comments and I take back everything I said. Will you forgive me?"

Huh. Coming from the mouth of anyone but James Potter, it would have sounded horrifically false - and it sounded even more fake. From what I knew of the guy, he was not one to apologize.

Nonetheless I decided to accept it. It was the best I would get under the circumstances and I did not wish to start the year with animosity. Well, except to the Slytherins, to whom I bore a deep grudge that I did not expect to weaken over time.


End file.
